Surprise! More goblin stories!
This story features a dude becoming a hot and sexy goblin girl and then fucked...a lot. Very gender bending fantasy energy here, because I like that kinda thing. It's also in the Fallout universe, because then I can write about a goblin in a skintight jumpsuit!
This story also involves some mindwarping/personality changing elements, so just a heads up there.
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Beck winced as the giant gear-shaped door squealed, its ancient rusted servos struggling to obey the commands issued by the Pip Boy on his wrist. The painful scrap of metal on metal made him wish he would have brought some ear plugs. His plated leather armour offered him protection from just about everything in the wasteland, save ear splitting noise.
He had no idea how long the Vault had been sealed. For all he knew, he was the first one to visit it since the bombs fell, 100 years before. Dreams of the kinds of loot one might find in a pre-War redoubt flashed through his mind. Weapons, chems, maybe even a suit of power armour? Even the most mundane facets of life before the bombs fell were invaluable trade goods. He'd seen someone sell a herd of brahmin for a single functioning wind up watch. Nobody had joined him on this one, so he didn't have to split the profits. All his. He tried not to get his hopes up...and failed.
He yanked the Pip Boy cable out from the console, watching with greedy eyes as the washed out number '68' in the dead centre of the rotating door spun around and around like a colossal hubcap. He'd fought his way past Ghouls and Radwolves, crossed the mountains of Shattered Kansas, even patched up a few bullet holes in his arm from a raider attack. All to get a claim on an unspoiled, untainted prize. He rubbed his hands together greedily and watched as the lights within illuminated the entryway to his new claim.
"Fuck."
Huge craters from explosives had carved chunks of the wall into heaps of metal and rock, while in other spots the blistering heat of plasma weapons had warped both materials together in formless metamorphosis. The door leading into the security room had been scissored open with a blowtorch or a military-grade laser, destroying a large portion of the computer consoles within. Barely a quarter of the lights worked, along with a sparse collection of emergency red cones that flashed in unison. And while there were no corpses, it was obvious a heavy firefight had broken out. He kicked one of the railings of the gangway in frustration. His dream of a huge payday was falling like sand through his fingers.That greed that had lit his eyes dimmed, turning to the worry that all his tribulation had been for nothing.
Beck pressed on. The damage looked old, but he held his bolt-action rifle to his shoulder nonetheless. There could be any number of threats lurking the halls of an abandoned Vault. From the maddened radioactive remains of survivors to malfunctioning securitrons, nothing was impossible. He kept his pace slow and steady, sweeping corners and rooms like hard experience and training had taught him to.
Each room he cleared told a part of a larger story. Some doors had been welded shut, others had been caved in with heavy force. More bullet holes, laser burns, and plasma damage, but a perplexing lack of bodies. Scraps of clothing coloured the faded blue of Vault Tec jumpsuits clung to the floors and walls. Curiouser and curiouser.
Aside from damage, the most prominent feature was the absence of features. Anything salvageable had clearly been ripped out, taken whole or in part from the various fixtures of the installation. Rooms labelled "Living Quarters" featured little more than exposed wiring and piping. The Medbay held a single cart, missing two of its wheels and tipped on the floor. Beck grew increasingly concerned. The place had been systematically looted, picked clean better than any scavver he'd heard of could pull off. It'd either been a professional job, or the result of multiple excursions. The sinking feeling of being a Johnny Come Lately only grew more intense the further he ventured. Had it all been pointless?
At the stairway to the third level, he felt a glimmer of hope. A door waited for him at the bottom of the stairs. There were marks that looked like the familiar scorching of weapons fire, but this door looked more akin to the primary Vault seal than the ones he'd passed in the living quarters. He nearly tripped over his own feet to get down the steps. The console on the adjoining wall was mostly unharmed, save for an access hatch dangling from its retaining cord. Someone must have tried to hack it with little success. Pressing the power button, the terminal blinked to life and asked in ghostly green text for input. He popped the cord of his Pipboy into the socket on the side and ran his descrambling macro. Whirring and clicking of the mechanics within made him hold his breath. Finally, with a satisfied *ding!*, the door opened.
It was like stepping into a different world. Unspoiled, functional lights flickered to life. The walls sat unmarred by bullets or lasers or even paint chipping and flaking from uncontrolled humidity. This is an environment that had been completely climate controlled for more than a century. He walked carefully, suddenly conscious of the dirt and grime on his gear from weeks in the field. The preachers back at his homestead outpost used to talk about the Garden of Eden; right now he felt like the snake.
He poked his head into each room, running a tally of contents for his later salvaging efforts. Most of the facilities looked like laboratories. Or rather, they looked like the pre-War version of what he'd seen called a lab in his time. Some were devoted to chem production, with huge rounded beakers and tubing running over counters and into special faucets. Others looked more like machine shops, with lathes and angle grinders and all the kinds of equipment you need to build and maintain mechanical parts. There was a lab purely for stacks of computers, all clustered around a single terminal that waited for a valid access code to divulge its secrets.
Beck was giddy. There was no telling how much all this untainted tech would go for. But there was surely a buyer out there somewhere, and the price would set him up for life! But in order to finance a team to get this stuff shipped out, he'd need a quick buck. He wandered through the rooms looking for something portable he could turn into a fat stack of caps.
One of the lab rooms looked promising. Huge cabinets of chems stacked all along the walls, with a trio of gigantic clear tanks filled with a glowing green fluid. Beck reasoned it could be valuable. Maybe a powerful reagent? Some kind of experimental fuel?
Beck looked around for some clue as to the nature of the mysterious liquid. A computer's fans buzzed in the background, drawing his eye. He approached, cleared off a mountain of holotapes labelled in an indecipherable script. Clearing off a thin film of dusty, the blocky green text gave him a hint.
VAULT-TEC
LAB 3A - Fertility Serum
His attention piqued. One of the everyday realities of the wasteland is that no mammal made it out of Bombfall without fertility issues. Making babies, especially healthy ones, just wasn't as easy as it once was (or so he heard). Beck knew at least two cities where a functioning booster could make him richer than a baron or a warlord.
But all that hinged on whether it worked or not. Beck plugged in the first of the holotapes, looking for answers. It was a log of the head researcher of this project, a man named Dr. Kyle Warrens. The first ones by date detailed the first weeks and months of isolation. Apparently, Vault Tec had ensured a staffing snafu that left this Vault with 999 men and a single woman. VT personnel were placed behind that security door he'd passed through in their own section, in order to observe and add new elements to the population to see how they reacted to them and the gender imbalance in general.
The main population of survivors didn't last long. Years went by without another woman in sight, and a population of angered, distraught, and outraged men overwhelmed their company-appointed Overseer before breaking into factions and fighting it out to the death. The survivors, including the single woman, left the Vault far too early for the fallout to have dissipated. Dr. Kyle decided they were likely lost.
That left the research staff, who decided that the experiments must go on...even if they had to perform them on themselves. But without a source of women, their numbers would quickly deplete.
He found one of those high capacity holotapes on the side of the computer, one labelled "Audio Logs. It would take a moment to spool up, so while he waited, he looked for a way to get a sample from the tanks of fluid. After much consternation, he found a small tap at the bottom of the center tank. He found an empty test tube with a stopper, perfect for his purposes. During his sample taking, the holotape loaded and an audiolog automatically played.
"January 20th, 2081," a gravely male voice said. "This is Doctor Kyle Warrens, recording a summary of experimental results for Head Researcher Daniels. Work continues on Project Cornucopia, our efforts to create a full sexual inversion on a tested male subject..."
His head jerked when he heard that, causing the test tube to momentarily jostle and leave his hand exposed to a few drops of the green fluid. Beck shook off the goo, wiping the remainder on on leather pants. His skin tingled where the goo had touched. Uh oh.
"We've found success combining FEV-II, a proprietary West Tek formula that we managed to get a sample of for testing purposes, and a few other ingredients mostly of our own design. The result is...striking."
The tingling sensation spread down his arm. Shaking it off was to no avail. He turned on one of the sink taps in the lab and washed the area thoroughly, but the tingling had travelled to his chest by the time he gave up.
